


Strange Statics

by DrowningInStarlight



Category: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, Ficlet, Gen, The Phoenix Witch (Danger Days)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 07:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17157605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningInStarlight/pseuds/DrowningInStarlight
Summary: No one's ever alone in the desert. That's the first thing you learn about life out in the Zones, no one's ever alone.





	Strange Statics

No one's ever alone in the desert. That's the first thing you learn about life out in the Zones, no one's ever alone. The desert is never quiet, there's always something. Around the other 'Joys, music, shouting, gunfire, people choking on their own laughter, violent and free. In the distant places, where you could run for days without seeing another living soul there's the rustle of wind over the sand, the hum of the sun beating down, the sound of your own breathing. 

Out here, you can hear the static. It comes and goes, sometimes so loud you dig your hands into your own skin and scream out, sometimes merely a buzz in the back of your skull. It doesn't map out, you could drive through a patch of sand where your teeth had rattled with it the night before and find only the faded sound of someone sobbing in the morning light. You can't find whoever it is. Their cries get louder, you back away-- there's nothing you can do for them, you know that. You hope they're at peace, as you turn and run. 

You can always feel it. Sometimes you turn, certain someone is staring at you. You know there's no one there, but still you turn, nod, tighten your mask. Everyone knows about the cameras, of course, they're always marked on maps in red ink (a warning or an invitation, and for Killjoys the choice between subtlety or danger isn't a choice at all) but this isn't the cameras, with their cold glass stares. You don't know what this is. You wouldn't ask, even if you met the Phoenix Witch herself. It's better not to know. 

When you're alone, you _feel_ it. Shock, like suddenly being drenched in cold water, the world going sharp and muffled all at the same time. You were asleep, but you're up on your feet in an instant, you knew you shouldn't have strayed this close to the edge of the Zones. You're alone, and there's a static in your head of a different kind, one that burns like ice, not fire. This isn't the regret of someone who died before their time, this isn't pain or fear or anything. It's a crushing emptiness. You can't breathe, your fingers are numb as you start your engine, panic tugging at you. _Your shadow lives on without you_ , but there are no shadows out here, and if you die alone you're truly lost.

Your engine starts, a kick of power under your shaking hands, you're driving. You drive for hours, you think, but time doesn't matter out here. All that matters is getting home.

You hit static, a forgotten voice tuned in to a different wavelength, you follow it along the valley. You stumble into Tommy Chow Mein's-- no one asks what happened to you. They knew where you were headed, had been unable to warn you off. No one goes outside the Zones. Those who do, don't come back as anything recognisable. It takes you a long time to get warm. 

No one is ever alone in the desert. You're thankful for it.


End file.
